


Heartbeats

by DearLazerBunny



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 22:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLazerBunny/pseuds/DearLazerBunny
Summary: written for anon who requested a medical drama! Let me know if you like it, anon- not sure there’s enough of the actual pairing in this, so I might go back and redo it.





	Heartbeats

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

You look up from the hard plastic chair you’ve collapsed on, head in your hands and foot tapping anxiously as you know you have to get back to work, but goddamn you feet hurt. You try to pull yourself out of your tired haze to answer. “Excuse me?”

The person asking is tall and dark-haired man, a surgeon from the looks of how he’s dressed. He doesn’t look… concerned, persay. At least not for you individually. More like it’ll become his problem if another resident passes out in the hallway under his watch. “I said-” he snaps off presumably dirty gloves and tosses them into a trash can nearby. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten? You look like shit.”

“Um…” you try to glance back through your day mentally, but it’s honestly all become one big blur. “Today?”

To your surprise, the doctor actually cracks a smile. “Good answer. Get a snack and then get ready for rounds, okay?”

You sigh internally, but put on a brave face. “Sure, Dr. Ren.”

He nods and walks off with a purpose, obviously busy with other places to go. Just like you do. But… just three more minutes.

You’ve been working as a resident here for a little over a year, and while you wouldn’t change your career for anything, it can be a little much at times. The long hours, the lazer-sharp focus surgery requires, the massive influx of patients young and old alike- it was starting to take a toll on you.

Not to mention this teensy, tiny little issue of your heart about to give out.

Not because of your job, of course. You’ve always had heart issues, but at your last exam the doctor was pretty clear- you need surgery, the absolute sooner the better. Except where were you going to find the time to get surgery when you’re working twelve hour shifts four days a week? The recovery time would be massive, not to mention the cost. And there’s the fact that you didn’t want to let down your boss. Dr. Ren was by far the most brilliant surgeon you’ve ever seen, and you’re incredibly lucky to be able to learn underneath him. What happens if you take a leave of absence? Would they replace you? Residencies at this hospital are in such high demand you’re almost certain you’d get transferred.

So you sit in your hard plastic chair and place a reluctant hand over the spot where your heart is, willing it to hang in there just a little longer.

…

He makes surgery seem like an art rather than a science.

Watching him is like watching an intricate puzzle be dissected and sewn back together, all with steady hands and no hint of hesitation. “Okay.” His voice is slightly muffled though his mask, but the three residents in the room- including you- immediately look towards him. “What’s my next step?”

One of the residents shakes his head. “You’re done, right? Stitch him up; send him home.”

“If we want to kill our patient, that’s a very good option.” He turns his gaze to you, which is terrifying to say the least. “Y/L/N. What’s next?” Stuttering from the surprise that he actually knows your name, you take stock of the surgery.

“Well, you already repaired the valve.” You grin a bit, noticing what the other resident forgot. “You still have to restart the heart.”

At your answer, a bright red blush immediately spreads across the resident’s cheeks for missing such an obvious step. “Very good.” He takes the paddles and hands them to you. “Care to do the honors?”

Oh, yikes. Not like you haven’t done this before, but still. You take a breath and nod, taking the equipment from him and readying the paddles. “Clear!”

…

“Y/L/N.” You’re getting cleaned up from surgery when a familiar voice calls your name. “Walk with me.”

You join Dr. Ren down the long corridor, not exactly sure what he’s looking for. “What’s up?”

“Good job in there.”

You’re a little taken aback by the compliment. The doctor is usually pretty cold, getting one job done and moving onto the next. Praise was incredibly rare. “It was a relatively simple procedure, once you did all the hard work of course.”

“You caught what the others didn’t. You’re smart; you think things through. I like that.”

“Oh. Well, thank you, sir.”

He nod at you. “Any questions?”

Up until now, you haven’t told anyone about your issue. Too afraid of the repercussions, I guess, even though it’s probably wildly detrimental to your heath. But now’s your chance. You could come clean, get a recommendation on the best time to be slotted in to surgery, get this all fixed up and out of the way…

“No, sir.” You watch him walk away and can physically feel your heart skip a beat, making you woozy. What would they think, a thoracic resident having heart problems? Stupid, that’s what. You’ll have to get it done at another hospital, and make up some excuse as to why you were gone. Maybe you could fake the flu for long enough to get a week’s rest in…

The day is filled with patients and problems, and you only feel worse and worse. Dizzy, mostly, and a little flushed. You try to up your water intake and sneak a granola bar when you can, but nothing seems to help.

“So how are you feeling, Mrs. Organa?” It’s just you and Dr. Ren with the patient, the other residents having a lucky day off. You try to keep focused on what the two are discussing, but the ringing in your ears is making it hard to hear. A wave of vertigo washes over you and you grab the end of the patient’s bed, trying to keep yourself upright.

“…are you alright?” Dr. Ren is looking at you concernedly, and it takes a moment before you realize the question is directed at you.

“Fine, I’m fine.” Another bout of dizzying nausea makes you gasp for air. “I think I just need to sit down…”

Sit you do. Well, more like collapse onto the floor like a rag doll. The doctor is on you in an instant, catching you beneath the arms and lowering you to the ground as gently as possible. He swiftly checks your vitals, only to find your heart going crazy. “Holy shit,” he mutters, and makes a split second decision- he goes to press the code button on the patient’s wall, immediately setting off alarms over the entire floor.

As nurses swarm the room, Ren is still listening to your heart. “Extreme tachycardia and Afib.” The nurse nods and prepares the crash cart, while another rushes to pull your medical records from the hospital’s system. He shocks you once, your body convulsing on the ground, returning your heart to normal for a few moments before once again returning to its arhythmic frenzy.

“Her charts, doctor.” He all but snatches them out of the nurses hand while two paramedics are busy lifting you to a gurney from the floor. Scanning them with a practiced eye, the results from your last exam immediately pop out at him.

“Get her to an an operating room immediately.”

The paramedics don’t question him, but the nurse stops for a moment. “Doctor…?”

“I said move!” His face is full of barely contained fury at your apparent stupidity and negligence. “This is the best damn resident we have and if we don’t operate immediately she’ll be dead in an hour. Move!”

…

You wake in a haze of medicine and pain, lying in a hospital bed in a private room. As things come into focus, you see Dr. Ren sitting in a chair by your bedside, head in his hands.

“Dr. Ren?” Your voice comes out dry and scratchy, like you’ve been hiking through a desert. “What… what happened?”

He looks up, and the relief on his face is palpable. “Good to see you decided to pull through.”

“Pull through?”

“Pull through your absolute stupidity.” He slaps your medical file down onto the bed beside you, and you blanch. “When exactly were you going to tell me about this?”

“I’m assuming I can’t cite patient confidentiality?” You say weakly.

“You’re damn right you can’t. I’m the best goddamn heart surgeon in the state and you’ve needed surgery for six months. You almost died on the table twice.”

You put a weary hand over your heart, which you can now feel is thumping along happily in your chest. “I’m assuming you put in a pacemaker?”

He sighs, and nods. “What the hell were you thinking.” He says it just like that- not a question, a matter of fact statement.

“I was thinking that I didn’t want to be transferred just because of medical leave.”

“Transferred? I never would have let them do that.”

You eye him carefully. “I- I appreciate that, sir. But… why do you even care? I’m just a resident.”

He stands by your bedside, tapping out a rhythm with his fingers onto the sheets. “You’re the best resident I’ve ever had, bar none. I’d kill before I’d let them move you to another hospital. Of course, your intelligence now seriously needs to be reevaluated with the stunt you just pulled.”

You should be stung by the sarcasm, but instead you latch onto the compliment. “I- thank you. And-” you reach out and still his hand, gripping it lightly. “Thank you. For this.” You tap your chest.

He doesn’t move his hand. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
